Flat face with a ticking wrist

Where timeless hours end up late,

The fading look that dials insist

Will ex post facto fate,


A spider in a shining net

Woven in the rearview mirror,

The future resting on a bet

That brings infinity no nearer,


Here I lie without a wave,

A nation unaddressed,

The morning’s god, the evening’s slave,

Ages goal and history’s pest,


Flaming cloud on distant sea,

Cyclone sky of beams and birds,

Island faraway from me,

Burned with light and dim with words,


Green with space and blank with time,

Tomorrow and today combined,

Endless as the smell of lime,

Before myself and worlds behind.


aka Anachronism, v4

Redone Tropics Bar, Waikiki

August 28th, 2005